


Great Poutine Caper by MJ

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: Cities Challenge, Humor, M/M, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys go to Ottawa, Canada and have an adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Great Poutine Caper by MJ

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my betas, Marilyn of the Virginias and Vicky of the Muskokas. They did a good job; any problems are mine. There are also some notes at the end of the story.

## Great Poutine Caper

by MJ

Author's disclaimer: Not mine. Just having fun. They will be back in Cascade in a few days, sated and relaxed. 

* * *

The Great Poutine Caper  
By MJ 

A little trip to Ottawa 

Blair leaned over Jim to see out the window, one hand balancing on his partner's strong right thigh. "Oh, man, look. I can see the Parliament Buildings!! Not a very big downtown for a national capital but hey, who cares. Great view. See, there is the Ottawa River and the Gatineau Hills." 

Since Blair's rear end was most appealingly displayed in tight jeans just in front of Jim's face, the big cop grinned and agreed dryly, "Yup, great view, Chief." However, given the stares they were getting from the man across the aisle, Jim refrained from expressing his appreciation in a more tangible form. "Better sit down, Ace, or the stewardess will come and restrain you." Lowering his voice so only Blair could hear him, "That's my job...tonight." 

Blair's face pinked most charmingly at that comment but before he could respond, the stewardess arrived, "Sir, sir, please take your seat and fasten your seatbelt. We will be landing in a few moments." 

Blair plopped back in his aisle seat and smiled broadly at the woman. "Yes, ma'am." With a click he had the belt securely fashioned about his hips. "This is going to be so cool. Going to a police conference to talk about anthropology. Who woulda thought it? And in a foreign country." 

"It's just Canada, Chief. Not really a foreign country. The same as the States." 

"Oh man, don't say that here, Jim. Canadians are sensitive about that sort of thing. Ok, yah, they speak English like we do but also French...around here and in Quebec and other provinces too. And different currency. And driving laws, Jim. Different driving laws. No taking corners on two wheels here." He nudged Jim in the ribs, teasing him about his sometimes erratic driving style while in pursuit of a criminal. "Do you realize they have sixty nine museums in this area... sixty nine." Blair got that dreamy look in his eyes. 

Jim got a totally different look on his face at the mention of 69 but tamped it down. "Hold it, Chief, we are here as Cascade PD representatives, to participate in the conference. Part of the panel in one of those Weird Consultants seminars. Not going to be able to slip away to spend time in museums." 

"That's the Non-traditional Expertise in Policing seminars, you Neanderthal." Jim's grin told Blair he had been gulled again. The anthropologist swotted his lover's near arm. "Going to get you, Ellison. Hey, I know we'll be busy during the week but we are staying for the weekend, aren't we? See a couple of sites, the Museum of Civilization at least. Cool building design and great collection of artefacts from indigenous peoples. Then, there is that blues festival I mentioned. Oh man, if only we could get tickets this late." 

"Said to be one of the best, Chief." Jim pulled an envelop out of his inside jacket pocket and slid a couple of paste-board cards in front of Blair's nose, "Just might be able to get to a session or two." 

Blair grabbed the cards. As he read them, his eyes got wide. "Oh, man, you are too much. How did you get tickets? And Gold-Circle full Festival passes? The prime seating?" 

"A friend of a friend, a Mountie stationed here." Jim felt the warm pleasure fill his chest at the joy in Blair's eyes. Museums he might not enjoy visiting but an internationally renowned blues festival, that was very easy to take. They would, of course, do that one museum Blair had mentioned and maybe one or two more but that would be balanced by all the fine blues. 

A thump and bump and they were down. A few minutes of rolling toward the terminal, more minutes while the ramp was extended to the plane and the doors opened. As soon as the seatbelt sign was off, Blair stood in the aisle, carry-on in hand, vibrating with excitement. Jim laid a long-fingered hand on his shoulder and squeezed several times, trying to calm his lover. Blair grinned over his shoulder at Jim and the vibrating slowed and stopped under the taller man's hand. In a few moments, they were moving forward down the narrow aisle. 

Getting through Immigration and Customs went smoothly, especially when they mentioned the conference as their reason for visiting. Their luggage was already on the carousel and in a few minutes they were exited into the main area of the terminal. A scarlet-uniformed member of the RCMP was holding up an "IACP Conference" sign and directed them to a conference-booked mini-bus to take them to their hotel. 

"Man, that is service." Blair slid further onto the seat to accommodate his partner. 

"All the perks of coming to a police conference, Chief. You mean this doesn't happen at your anthropology conventions?" 

"Not any I've been to. Hey, we got time, let's go for a walk after we get to the hotel." 

"Check in first. Then ...we'll see." Jim's voice had deepened, a near rumble from the centre of his chest. Blair flicked his eyes over the bigger man's body and a shiver ran down his spine. He nodded sharply, knowing what that tone meant and wanting what it promised. Oh yes, wanting it very much. 

* * *

Blair managed to keep his hands to himself all through the check-in at the hotel, the trip up in the elevator and the walk down the interminably long hallway to their room. Even while the porter showed them how to use the key card to open their door and brought their luggage in. He sighed when the man started to describe all the room's features. But as soon as Jim had tipped the porter and saw him out the door, Blair pounced. 

The big man didn't see it coming. He was walking into the main part of their room, focussed on putting his wallet back into his pocket when a rocket named Sandburg hit low, taking him down onto the nearest of the two double beds. 

"OUFFF!" as Blair landed on him and started to climb up his body. 

Questing hands were delving under the waistband of Jim's slacks as a tongue, hot with desire, plundered his mouth. Through the six months of being lovers, Jim had learned just to let Blair get this out of his system. To relax and enjoy the ride. Blair never disappointed. 

The words started when Blair lifted his mouth from Jim's. 

"oh baby, so good, so hot, got to see more, got to find all the buff bits, going to lick and suck all over your body, every inch, not going to miss a spot, need to touch you, wrap my hand around your hard shaft, squeeze you, pull you, pull you hard, make you beg, going to beg for more, more than you can stand, going to make you scream, scream and scream my name, oh yeah, my name on your lips, on your hot lips, in your hot mouth, oh yeah..." 

By this time Blair had divested Jim of all his clothes and got himself naked. His hips were thrusting frantically against Jim, bumping his weeping erection into Jim's, as his teeth nipped at Jim's nipples. It did not take long, not at this intensity. A long strong- pitched groan and Blair's seed splashed between them. The sound of his lover's completion combined with the last several thrusts and Jim was gone too, back arching, face grimacing at the strength of the release. A slump down to the mattress, Blair a hot blanket of flesh over him and the two of them fell asleep. 

* * *

The telephone woke Blair. He put out a hand to the set on the night table and lifted the receiver. "Yah?" 

"Hello. Detective Ellison and Doctor Sandburg? This is Inspector Robert Cleroux of the IACP Mid-summer Seminars Committee. Welcome to Ottawa. I noticed that you had not picked up your registration kit so I thought I should let you know there is an opening dinner tonight in the Laurentian Room. 7 for drinks. That's about half an hour. Look forward to meeting you both." And the voice went away before Blair could say anything. 

Jim mumbled from his side of the bed, "Who was that?" 

Blair rolled back on top of his partner. "The Roadrunner, meep, meep, too fast to catch...umm, opening night dinner tonight, in half an hour. We have to go?" 

"Damn. Yes. Get off me, Chief, I need to shower." With a shove, he slid Blair away and rose up. 

Blair's eyes followed his lover, a splendid specimen in all his natural, exposed glory. The anthropologist leered at him. "I'll come too." 

Jim pointed a long finger. "No, you won't. We don't have enough time. You unpack our dress stuff. Mind you hang my shirt up. Properly." 

A pout. "Go on, crack your whip, slave driver." 

Jim didn't pause on his way to the bathroom but threw over his shoulder, "That's for later, my little love slave." 

With a laugh, Blair leapt out of bed and opened up their cases. He didn't mind, since Jim had done all the work of packing for both of them. 

* * *

The meet-and-greet had been good. Typical of such things but perhaps a little more laid back. The whole was designed to get people mingling so there was a buffet instead of a sit-down dinner. The food was selected to accommodate standing to eat or balancing plates on knees. The room had lots of seating scattered in conversational groupings. Waiters wandered bringing drinks and taking away empty plates. 

Jim and Blair chose to go separate ways, only coming together after the buffet meal. On his part, Jim enjoyed catching up with some friends from other police agencies and Blair was in his element, chatting with people from many different cultures. The gathering ended too late for that walk Blair had wanted so they put it off until the next evening. 

The seminars began early and continued until 4 p.m. The Anthropology and Policing seminar with Jim and Blair as part of the presentation panel was last of the day and went well. Jim was impressed at Blair's ability to take complex anthropological theories and techniques and demonstrate through concrete examples from their cases how useful those techniques were to police work. Lots of good discussion was generated and many attendees came up to ask the panel members more questions after the session was officially over. Most of the business cards they had brought to that session were taken by interested attendees and Blair had been given a pocketful in return. 

As they exited the conference room, Blair's eyes were alight. "Oh, man, that was fantastic. I had really underestimated the interest there would be. Did you hear what that guy from New York said...how he was going back to convince his boss to get an anthropologist as a consultant? And he wasn't the only one. I mean, think how much effort Simon had to make to get the PD to offer me a full time job and here the Mounties have hired an anthropologist and now there is this international seminar. Never would have thought..." his voice drifted away. 

"That a bunch of dumb cops could see the value in your field's expertise, Chief?" 

"I did not say that, man!" Blair emphasized his words with a finger stabbing the air. 

"I know you didn't, but you were thinking it. Weren't you?" 

Aware that the hallway was full of police officers, Blair leaned toward Jim and hissed, "Well, you have to admit that some cops are less than ...open to outsiders giving them a new perspective." 

"Not surprizing when those outsiders look like you, my wild hippie." He grinned at Blair, who looked very unhippie-like now with his shorter hair and more up-scale clothes. "Now, how about that walk? I could do with some fresh air." 

"Great! There was a map of this area and a list of interesting sites in our registration pack. Plus I did a little research before we came. Got to go to the Byward Market. It's only a couple of blocks away. Shops and restaurants along with a farmers market." 

"Sounds good. Then we could attend the opening session of the blues festival." 

"That's a plan. Last guy changed pays for supper," and Blair was off to the elevators with Jim in hot pursuit. 

A few wags called out, "Take him down, brother. Get that perp!!" 

* * *

As they strolled the narrow streets in the Byward Market area, Blair kept pointing out things to Jim. The temporary stalls for sales of local farm produce and bedding plants. The street entertainers. The young men pulling modern rickshaws. Jim wondered what the long blocky building at the edge of the market area was. Blair consulted his small tourist map. 

"Says it's the American Embassy. Wow! Great location. A short block from all this." 

Jim drawled, "Sure, convenient to make last minute food and wine purchases for those impromptu parties, or to slip out for a quick beer." 

Blair grinned at him. "Oh man, I knew we Americans were oriented to the market economy. This proves it." Jim thwapped Blair's head and grinned back. 

They continued to stroll through the late afternoon crowd filling the narrow sidewalks. The colours and smells and bustle were nearly overwhelming Jim until Blair touched his arm and whispered, "Dial down, Jim. Take it to where you are comfortable." He was able to find the dials easily with Blair's touch anchoring him and it all became more enjoyable. 

One problem was trying to tune his ear to the chatter around him going on in two different languages. At a corner, a young man selling South American native jewellery got Blair into conversation but since the whole conversation was in some sort of French, Jim was out of his element. It did not sound anything like the French he had learned in high school. 

"Salut, man. Charg'tu quelq'chose?" 

"J'n'fai' q'regarder," Blair responded with facility. 

After several minutes of sorting through the pile of items on the small table and rattling on about something or other with the seller, Blair pointed to a carved stone on a leather cord hanging behind the table. "C'est de quelle pays, ca?" 

"Guatemala." The young man grinned and took down the necklace and extended it for inspection. " Bienbon, hnn? Essai' la." He moved out from behind his display table with a smile as predatory as any Jim had seen. 

The seller was now right in Blair's personal space and Blair did not seem to mind as he was turned around to face the mirror dangling from the display board at the back of the stall. The man's arms extended around his partner's neck, draping the necklace on Blair's bare throat. Jim did not like the way the seller's fingers lay against his partner's skin, almost caressing. 

Making eye contact with Blair in the mirror, the seller purred, "C'est cute. Comme toi." Softly, into Blair's ear," J'm'rai donc la mettre." 

Though Jim did not understand the words, he got the tone. It raised his territorial hackles. Blair on the other hand seemed entirely oblivious, staring into the mirror and fingering the necklace. Jim had had enough. He reached out and grasping Blair's near arm, tugged him away from the seller and down the street. 

"Hey, faites moi pas ca!!" the seller protested. 

"Jim, Jim, let me go. Come on." 

The bigger man ignored all protest and drew Blair along. At the next intersection ,they had to stop for traffic and Blair was able to get free of Jim's grip and step in front of him. 

"What was that about? I was thinking about getting that necklace!" 

"It was just some junk, Chief." 

"Yah, so. Maybe I like junk." 

"Well, not from that guy and what he was selling." Jim glowered at the cars, willing them to disappear. 

Blair's eyes lit up. "Oh. THAT guy. Oh. I get it." A chuckle. "You're jealous." 

"No." 

"Oh yes. Green as grass clippings." A grin. "Your first jealousy fit. 's great!! " 

The traffic cleared the intersection and Jim started across the street, Blair about to follow but cut off by a large truck. Jim's pace increased to avoid more cars but just as he reached the far curb, he paused, angling his head. There was something ...an aroma, interesting. Where was that coming from? Head turning slowly he identified the direction and strode quickly toward it. 

Around the corner, a large van with the words "CHIPS FRITS CHIPS FRITS" all along its sides in bold red letters was parked at the curb. A hand came out of an open window in the side of the van and passed over a styrofoam bowl to a middle aged man waiting on the sidewalk. The man started toward Jim, eating from the bowl with a plastic fork. Jim could sense that intriguing smell getting closer. It was in that man's bowl. 

"Ah, excuse me, but what is that?" Jim gestured to the bowl. 

"Poutine. The best in town." The man continued on his way, going back to eating. 

The big cop moved to the open window of the van. When the woman inside looked at him, he said, "Poutine." 

"Gross ou petit?" At his puzzled stare, "Large or small?" 

"Ah, small." 

"$2.50. Drink?" 

Jim pulled out his wallet and found one of the blue Canadian five-dollar bills. "No thanks." As he pocketed his change, Blair trotted up to him. 

"Jim, man, look, I didn't mean to tease you. It was just so flattering that you were jealous. No one has ever been jealous over me before. Hey, what are you ordering?" 

"A local treat, apparently." His attention was drawn back to the van as the woman handed him a bowl. The aroma filled his nose and he sighed in pleasure. Grabbing a white plastic fork from the container at the window, he stabbed into the bowl and shovelled a mound of 'poutine' into his mouth. It was glorious! Fries hot from the oil, melted bits of cheese curds and a nice smooth gravy dripping down through it all. 

Blair peered into the bowl. "Oh my god! Heart attack in a bowl. Fries and what's that, cheese? ...and gravy? That's going to kill you, Jim. Come on, don't eat that just because you're mad at me." 

Around another mouthful, Jim managed to say, "Who's mad? Smell was getting to me. Here," extending a fork loaded with poutine, "try it." 

Blair leaned away. "Are you kidding. I want to live to reach 40! Just throw it away, Jim." 

A final sloppy mouthful and Jim was finished. "Too late, Chief. Great stuff. I might even say better than Wonderburger." 

"You idiot. Ok, now you have to get that out of your system. Got to go jogging." 

"Don't be crazy, Chief. Time to eat and then go to the blues festival. Schedule says it's at La Brea Flats. Any idea where that is?" 

"Don't try to distract me and that's Lebreton Flats and it's over that way somewhere," waving vaguely to the west. "Ok, but you have to go out running tomorrow morning and you get salad for supper." 

Jim had planned to go jogging the next morning anyway and after all that grease in the poutine he knew he wanted something lighter for supper, though maybe not salad. With a start, he realized the impact of Blair's healthier cooking on his diet when a second round of greasy cholesterol did not appeal. 

* * *

The evening at Lebreton Flats was great. The artists playing, led by the legendary Johnny Lee Hooker, were fantastic, the rich sounds of really good blues flowing around them all night. Their seats were perfect, back a few rows of the stage but off to the side a bit to facilitate runs to the refreshment kiosks and to be out of the sound waves booming from the speakers. The evening air was pleasant, warm enough without being oppressively hot and humid the way it can get in the Ottawa Valley in July or so the guy sitting near them said. A fresh breeze drifted across the river and kept the cigarette smoke away from Jim's nose. The crowds were mellow and friendly, everyone getting into the groove, no one disruptive or not seriously so. Festival Security had little to do, other than point out the location of washrooms and drinks stands. 

At the end, near midnight, the partners strolled back to their hotel, Jim having memorized the route on the taxi ride over. The sidewalks were full of people heading home, chatting happily. 

Blair was mellowed out with everyone else. "Jim, that was really fine." He sang the closing bars of Keb' Mo's last song, his voice low and sweet in the darkness. "'You find your own way... there's more than one way...home.'" He sighed. "What a terrific way to spend a summer's night. We should get some outdoor concerts in Cascade, you know? Let people get together and enjoy the night without worry." 

Jim smiled. "One problem." Blair looked at him and Jim raised his hands, spread his fingers and waggled his fingers up and down. "Rain. You know how many dry evenings we had last summer? 12." 

"Tents, man. Got to get a bunch of those really big tents, like they used to have circuses in. Perfect. Weather won't matter but if its nice out, you can leave the sides up for a breeze." 

"Not a bad idea, Chief. I know a couple of the guys who run that blues club on Pender. You should talk to them." 

"Sure, great but not just blues. Jazz and hiphop and old time rock and roll. Not current rock though. Too loud." 

"I never thought I'd hear you say that, Mr. Blaster." 

"Nah, man, got to focus on context. Rock, well, wrong crowd mix. See, here," gesturing to the people around them, "you got quite an age range. That is what makes it good. Intergenerational integration, keeps things cool." 

Twenty minutes later, they reached their hotel room and got ready for bed. However, the length of the day and the few beers they had at the concert left them little energy for more than serious cuddling but that was what they both wanted. 

Just before he fell asleep, back against Jim's chest, Blair murmured, "Don't forget, jogging tomorrow morning." 

Jim smiled into the darkness of their room. Oh yes, jogging and he had plans. 

* * *

Morning came much sooner than Blair imaged it would. Much much sooner than he wanted. It came in jiggles; it came in thumps; it came as light in his eyes. It came in a voice rumbling close to his ear, "Up, Chief. Time to run." 

He slid the pillow over his head and moaned, "Nooo. Not me." 

"Yes you. If I go, you go. I am in a foreign country where not everyone speaks English. Or I might zone. Or see another chipwagon." A swot on Blair's rear. "Up, before I let you test how cold the ice cubes are." 

"Aw, man, too cruel. Way too...hey, I don't have anything to wear! All my clothes are too heavy for jogging. Can't go." A sweet smile appeared from behind the pillow. "Sorry. I really would like to but..." A shrug. 

"Got it covered, Giorgio. Packed your shorts and you can wear the t-shirt you got with your registration packet." He waved the indicated items in his right hand. 

"Runners?" He frowned as Jim held them up in his left hand. "Great. Thanks." His voice was rich with sarcasm. 

Jim smiled broadly, if somewhat wickedly. "No sweat." 

A muttered oath and Blair rolled out of bed. He grabbed his clothes and runners from Jim's hands and grumbled as he dressed. "No sweat, no sweat. Going to sweat like a pig. Humid, the guy said it was humid around here. Going to look like I went through a car wash. Hair is going to frizz up. Shit." 

Jim stood by the door, leaning on the wall arms and ankles crossed and relishing the view of his lover's body bent over to slip on the shorts and then to tie the white runners. He might be short but Blair had a nicely formed body, muscled in all the right places and an ass so perfectly rounded Jim had to restrain himself from stepping forward to caress the taut globes. Life was good. Oh, yeah. 

** 

Thirty minutes later, they were running back toward their hotel along the Rideau Canal, past the trees and flower beds and quiet residential streets that bordered the Canal. They had run down the east side of the Canal, over the short Pretoria Lift Bridge and were returning up the west side. Even at this early hour, there were other joggers out enjoying the cool of the early morning air. Jim recognized a number of the attendees at the policing conference, nodding in reply to their greetings. 

It had been an easy run by Cascade standards: no hills. Life saving, after the long day and late night they had had. By his side, Blair was pounding along, keeping up with no difficulty. Since joining the PD, Blair had been joining Jim on his thrice-weekly early morning runs and at his workouts at the gym. Jim was never sure why: a need to keep fit for the job, a compulsion to be at his Sentinel's side or as Blair had joked, a desire to be 'fuck-energized'. He had finished the comment with a glared "and I ain't some pink bunny, man...however much we boff." That one had laid Jim on the floor, laughing so hard he lost his breath at the incredible visual image of Blair dressed only in pink bunny ears thrusting his hips energetically. Going and going and going. 

As they passed over a small side channel leading to a pond, Jim noticed a short stocky man, standing staring at them a few yards ahead. As they passed him, the man reached out and grabbed Blair's arm, dragging him toward the Canal edge. Jim swerved around and was about to charge to the rescue when he noticed the black pistol aimed at his partner's head. He skidded to a halt and glanced at his lover. 

Blair's eyes were wide but he did the right thing: he stood stock still within the circle of the brawny arm now around his neck. His heart was racing, his breathing shallow but Jim could see him assessing the dangers of the situation and looking to Jim for help. But the big cop was weaponless. No guns allowed over the border, even for a cop, without some significant paperwork so Jim had left his handgun at home. Not that he needed a gun to deal with every situation but sometimes it was necessary. 

Getting his own fears under some control, he spread his hands to show he was unarmed. "Easy there. What's going on? We're just tourists here and no cash on us. You want my watch?" He extended his left wrist. 

The man shook his head. Jim noted that he was pale and sweating profusely, not a good sign. The gun was wavering slightly in his fist. Jim could hear his heart beating, faster than Sandburg's. "Cops, you're cops. Can't fool me. Says so right on this t-shirt." He tapped the gun barrel on the lettering across Blair's chest, 'Policing 2000.' 

"Just at this convention, pal. Not local cops. Not even from this country. Ok? Let him go. He's not even a real cop. A consultant. I mean look at him, would anyone that short ever be a cop?" "So how come he's got the t-shirt? Shirt says he's a cop, he's a cop!! You're lying. I got to have a cop. I got a cop. He's mine. Back off!" The voice was rising, moving into an hysterical tone. The gun was swinging back and forth between Blair's head and Jim's chest. 

Jim, who had been moving slowly closer, stopped and stepped back two steps. "Sure, whatever you say but really, he's not a cop. I am. So if you need a cop, take me. Let the little consultant go." His voice was quiet but commanding. 

Blair broke his silence then. "No! No, I AM a cop. He's just trying to trick you, man. Let's go...wherever we're going. Forget him. Come on, let's go!" He actually tried to draw his captor back away from Jim but the man resisted. 

"Stop! Stop. Wait. I...gotta think. Just wait." The man's face was anguished with indecision. He started mumbling to himself, something about someone named Jean-Guy. 

Jim was trying to judge the distance and whether he had time to get to the gun before the man could use it. He was distracted by two other joggers, both police officers he recognized from the convention, coming up behind the gunman. They signalled that they could try to jump him but Jim tried to wave them off. Unfortunately, his gesture attracted the nervous man's attention. With a glance over his shoulder, the gunman saw the other cops. 

"Shit, shit, shit. Get back. Get back!" He jerked Blair around and waved the two cops to stand close to Jim. 

The gun was snapping back and forth wildly now, the movements jerky, ending up against Blair's temple, the man's hand shaking badly. Jim realized this was the critical point. If the gunman was spooked now, he could fire his weapon accidentally right at his lover's head. At that range...Jim had to act now. Keeping his voice cast low and calm, he got the man's attention. 

"Easy, buddy. No one's going to do anything. Let's just figure how we get out of this." He had no plan but he had to try. Time to apply all his senses to this problem and fast. 

Smell..oh yah, the guy was scared. Phew. Heart thundering and breath laboured. Could have guessed that. Body temperature elevated. Sweat over his skin. Hands shaking, eyes wide and dilated. Might be on something. Great. Jim's eyes focussed sharply on the weapon and then he saw it. He took a step forward. 

"Stop! I told you to stay away. I'll...I got a gun. I'll kill him." The desperate man pressed the mouth of the gun hard against Blair's temple and his partner winced. 

For not the first time, Jim wished he could do the 'voice', that tone Blair used so effectively to calm people down. He was just going to have to do this his way. 

"Look, this is not a situation that you can get out of. There's cops all around you. If you take out this guy," a movement of his head indicating Blair, "it's murder. You know what happens to murderers. The death penalty. How do they do it here? Electric chair? Lethal injection? Hanging? I bet they do hanging. Man, you ever see anyone hang? Awful. Tongue bloats up..." 

"SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!!" he screamed, taking a step back away from Jim, pulling Blair along with him. "You, you just shut the fuck up!!!" Another step closer to the edge of the Canal embankment. 

As his captor continued to yell, Blair murmured, under his breath, only Sentinel loud, "Jimmm. What are you doing? He is really ready to blow here. I can't duck this one, you know." His voice cracked a little, his whole body shaking with his fear. 

Jim stared at Blair for a second before continuing forward. "Come on, buddy, just put it down. Come on." 

Jim was only three feet from his target now. With a lunge, he made the distance and tackled the man, one hand grabbing for the gun. The struggle was enough to unbalance them, the gunman leaning into empty air and drawing Blair and Jim with him. A second of wobbling on the brink that reminded Jim of Roadrunner cartoons and gravity took the three of them over the Canal edge and dropped them with a resounding splash into the water. 

* * *

Two hours later, dressed in sweats provided at the local police station but still in their own squelchy runners, they finally finished up their statements. Blair was more than ready to head back to the hotel but Jim was asking the investigating officer, Sergeant Michaelson, some questions. 

"So what was that about? He had to have a cop?" 

Michaelson grinned. "Yah. His name's Iggy Rapin, younger brother of a local tough who is currently in jail. Iggy is..ah, not too bright and he is the runt of the family." The officer's eyes flicked toward Blair and away before continuing. 

"Talked up a storm, once we dried him off a bit. Got it into his head he had to join the local gang his brother hung with, sort of a stand-in for his brother. But...and we're guessing here... they didn't want him. So to get rid of him, they told him he had to take out a cop to join the gang. Show them he had the balls,eh? Poor Iggy is not a bad guy and the idea of actually killing anyone had him pretty freaked. But he had to uphold the family honour so he tried. He had been wandering around all night trying to find a cop." He grinned at Blair. "Just your luck you came along, wearing that t-shirt. Hey, here it is." He pulled the damp and smelly shirt emblazoned with the conference motto from behind his back and held it out toward Blair. "You forgot it in the locker room." 

Waving his hand to dissipate the fumes from the shirt, "Pewww. No, I didn't. What is in that Canal anyway?" 

A wide grin. "Gas from boat engines. Few dead fish. Algae. Brewed up by a really hot dry summer. Water flow's down, eh? So, I should...?" 

"Garbage ...maybe compost it?" As Michaelson held up a bag with their other damp clothes, "Compost them all. They're already green!" 

That remark drew a loud laugh from Michaelson. " You got it, brother." 

Blair grinned back. "So what happens to Iggy now?" 

The cop shrugged. "Up to the Crown Attorney. First offence but using a weapon...such as it was." A chuckle. "Poor fuck couldn't even use a real gun." 

Blair shuddered. "Felt real to me." 

More seriously, "Yah, you know it. Those toy replicas are too real looking. Almost shot a drunk last year who was waving one of those around. Odda be banned. Or made in weird colours, not like real guns. Don't worry about Iggy. Likely get him into some residential rehab program. Sorry about this, guys. Ottawa's really not a city where you need to worry about your safety. I mean, how often you going to get a guy trying out for a local gang stupid enough to come after a cop?" He grinned at them. 

Jim leaned forward, conspiratorially, one hand still on Blair's shoulder where it had been for some time. "My partner here attracts trouble like a magnet in the most peaceful places. You should have seen what happened at a monastery! We'll be leaving Sunday night, Sergeant, so you might want to get a few extra guys on duty until then. Let's go, Chief, before some bad guys try to raid this station." 

Blair whacked Jim's arm. "Ha ha, really funny, Ellison. You might want to remember that payback's a bitch." With a smile, Blair turned to Michaelson. "We'll send back the sweats once we get back to the hotel." 

"Nah. Keep 'em. Got to take care of our own, eh?" 

Blair smiled broadly. "Thanks, man. And if you get to Cascade..." 

"Sure. Look you guys up. Be careful out there." He laughed. "Always wanted to say that." 

* * *

All the way back to the hotel, Jim was deeply in Blair's personal space, as he had been since they got out of the canal. It wasn't bothering Blair, who understood his Blessed Protector's need to be close now that the need for action was over and the residual fear had nothing to dissipate it. In fact he rather liked the reaction. He did wonder what Michaelson and the other Ottawa cops thought but he had not seen anyone react negatively to Jim's protectiveness. 

After changing into their own clothes and dry shoes, they made it to the convention a short while past 10 a.m., just as the coffee break started. Almost immediately they were surrounded by fellow attendees. The two officers from the convention who had witnessed the incident and arrived back earlier than Jim and Blair, had already mentioned the incident. Jim left it to Blair to regale the crowd with an amusing version while he stood close behind him, eyes scanning the crowd, hearing focussed on the Guide's heart beat. 

Jim managed to keep his hands to himself for the rest of the day or at least most of the time. He did feel this overwhelming need to be close to his Guide but as long as he could hear Blair's heart beat steady and calm and touch him in a casual way a few times, he managed. By the end of the day, though, his tension was growing again. He thanked God that the convention was now over and his lover would be all his for the weekend with no need to keep their personal relationship private. 

The time spent bidding goodbye to the people they had met at the convention was wearing. Jim attempted to draw Blair away twice but got an elbow in the ribs once and a slight kick to his left foot along with a wordless glare of 'stop it' the second time. Jim backed off slightly and clenched his hands. Blair knew it would not last long. 

Finally they were on their way up to their room, Jim standing close enough to Blair to become a part of him, one hand moving continuously on the small of his back. Luckily they were to their room in a few minutes. As the door closed behind them, Jim's hands were around Blair's chest, drawing the younger man back against his body. 

His mouth pressed onto the skin at the nape of Blair's neck, the tip of tongue tasting the essence there. He sniffed deeply of the Guide's scent, a tremble running through his body as the aroma filled him. One long-fingered hand glided around and down to brush over Blair's incipient erection, the other hand delving into the space made by two opened shirt buttons, seeking more skin, brushing over curly chest hair. Finding and pressing a hardening nipple. 

"Oh, yes, oh, man." Blair moaned deep in his throat and pressed back into Jim's body. "Hmmm, good, yes. Yours, I am yours. Let me know it." 

The sound of Blair's voice fired Jim's passions even more. He took two long breaths and steadied. His face rose from resting against Blair's neck, his tongue giving the moist skin there one last swipe to a long sigh from his lover. 

With a determination that could not be denied, Jim manoeuvred them slowly toward the closest double bed, one knee working its way between Blair's thighs to spread his legs and sort of lift him along slightly off balance. Jim's version of the bum's rush or as Blair preferred to call it, 'the pushy lover's rumba'. 

When knees bumped into the broad mattress, Jim rotated Blair from his embrace and pressed him against the wall next to the bed. The cool crystal eyes locked onto Blair's and pinned him in place. With a slowness that had Blair's breath catching, the Sentinel drew the Guide's hands over his head and held them there on the artistically roughed plaster with one strong hand. The younger man wondered then, with a shiver, at how primal a level Jim was operating. How primal the sex was going to be. Excited by the idea of it. 

As the Sentinel stepped back a step, those eyes were on the captive at the wall in a stare like ice that burnt. Blair felt his entire body clench in anticipation. When he started to lower his arms, Jim growled and Blair froze. All right, the Sentinel was entirely in charge. And needing to reassure himself through intimate contact. Blair could go with that. 

Jim advanced again, seriously into Blair's personal space, hands coming to rest on the younger man's chest just below his clavicles. Two index fingers rubbed the prominent bones where they almost met at the base of Blair's throat. He could feel the heat in Jim's fingers through his shirt. As he concentrated, Jim rocked his hips forward, brushing his groin over Blair's. Jim was already hard. Big surprize. 

Blair could not stop the moan of appreciation falling from his mouth. "Hmmmmm. Please, again." 

Hands slid down Blair's chest and gathered handfuls of shirt. Then, Jim grasped each side of the shirt and simply yanked outward. The buttons on Blair's shirt went flying. Another upward move pulled the shirt out of his trousers and up and off of his body. A toss and the shirt floated down on the other side of the bed. A hot and demanding mouth latched onto a bared left nipple, lips sucking in the silver ring, tongue tugging it. 

"Aahhoo." Breathless from the sensation that shot through him, Blair jerked his hips forward slamming into the hard groin in front of him. His lover's body shoved back and began to thrust wildly, almost erratically into Blair. The tension built impossibly higher taking all reason until with a cry, Blair came. At the sound his Sentinel grunted, thrust hard and growled out his release. 

Jim let his full weight go against Blair, face in the join of neck and shoulder, snuffing hot breath onto Blair's sweaty skin. Blair's arms slid around his lover's body and held him up, only able to do so by the pressure of his own body on the rough surface of the wall. He knew if he slipped down, there would be scraps and scratches from the plaster mountains now digging into his back. He pushed back, heels and knees taking the redirected pressure of Jim's weight, muscles beginning to protest. 

Just as he thought they would be going down, Jim came to himself, stood up and drew Blair away from the wall to lean against the cool, smooth wood of the cupboard a few feet over, a hand in the middle of the anthropologist's chest. One pointed finger told him not to move...not down, not forward, not sideways. Blair nodded sharply and Jim lifted his restraining hand away. 

A quick flip and the comforter, blanket and top sheet were at the end of the bed. A snap of the wrist and the top sheet came free from mattress. Folded in quarter, it became a pad in the middle of the bed. Finally Jim snagged towels from the bathroom and lube and condoms from his suitcase. One towel was spread over the near edge of the bed, draped so it covered the edge of the mattress. 

Blair watched these preparations in shivery desire shot through with affectionate amusement. Amusement that he kept strictly to himself. Primal their first encounter might have been, filled with all the raw power of the jaguar mating, but Jim would not hurt his lover in a full, skin to skin coupling. And the big man hated sleeping on the wet spot. So the right preparations had to be made. 

A soft hmmm of effort and he was pulled forward and rotated so he could sit on the towel. Jim looked down at him, the primal man now sated by their frantic coupling and withdrawing deeper into Jim's psyche. The being left behind was smiling softly, touching Blair's face and hair with tender brushes of finger tips, caressing his shoulders with his palms. When Blair would have spoken, gentle fingers touched his lips. "Shush. Shush." 

Jim padded back into the bathroom. Water running, a zipper undone and then sloshing. After a few moments, Jim came back, now naked except for the towel around his hips. He pulled his lover to his feet, swiftly undressed him and cleaned him with the warm washcloth he carried. As he finished with a quick wipe of the towel up between Blair's legs, Jim gestured for his lover to lay back on the mattress. 

Grinning, Blair slid back into position but caught his breath as his Sentinel tossed the towel around his hips to the floor. Climbed onto the end of the bed on all fours. Stalked up the bed, all shoulders, up and over Blair's body like the great cat that was the Sentinel's spirit guide. Focused ice blue eyes on Blair's wide open ones. Opened his mouth, tongue peeking, breath coming audibly through his nose. Rumbling from deep in his chest. 

Blair shivered, wanted to run but instead, slid down further, legs splaying, head tilting back, exposing his throat in surrender. The great cat pounced, teeth taking the throat offered and worrying it without breaking the skin. Blair nearly came off the bed when a thrust of hips brought a hot hard cock against his own burgeoning manhood. When the steely silk rubbed again and again. 

He groaned, "Please. Please, love. Please." And raised his legs to grasp his lover around the waist, pressing his most intimate places to the hardness pounding downward. Suddenly it all stopped. "Nooo. Nooo. Nooo." 

Long fingers soothed him, a voice calming. "Shush, shush. Soon. Soon." A kiss on the inside of one thigh. Then he felt it, a slick finger brushing over his anus, starting a new fire, a new trembling. In, around and out. Back with another, more slickness, cajoling the way to surrender. Then a heat and a pressure and a long, slow, tortuously slow entry. And out. And in again and deep and long and slow. Driving him mad. Driving onward. Until like a lightening strike, the fire drew all his nerves tight, tight and he released to the sound of two voices crying out. He sighed and slid into the dark, sweaty and boneless. 

* * *

Jim's head was pillowed on Blair's chest as they both recovered from the effects of their shared orgasm. Fingers trailing gently in the ample chest hair, Jim murmured, not quite casually, "Did you know what that guy was suggesting?" 

Blair hesitated a moment before he clued into this out-of-the-blue question. "Yes. I knew." That jealousy thing needed to be addressed apparently. He slid his hand up and down Jim's back slowly. 

"But you didn't say anything." Voice quiet but with a thread of emotion. 

Oh yeah, some jealousy thing indeed. "Sometimes it is easier to ignore an invitation ...a crudely worded one...than to respond to it. To pretend I did not understand. Easier on some people's ego that way. And way easier on my face. 'specially with an unknown quantity like a stranger." 

"Oh. But if he had pursued it?" Jim moved a little down onto his lover's belly, his face visible though he was not looking up. 

"I would have said clearly I was not interested." At Jim's frown, "That I was taken already." He smiled at his pun. 

Jim harrumphed in satisfaction but noted, "Guy could have been trouble." He resettled his head, tilted downward. 

"I have handled these things before, man. Got that Academy training too. Besides, my main squeeze was standing nearby to give me any backup I needed. Right?" 

Blair felt a grin against his chest; heard the pleasure in the voice. "Main squeeze, hnn?" 

The younger man clenched one of Jim's firm ass cheek and hissed softly toward a Sentinel ear, "ssqqueeezeee." 

Jim's guffaw was so sudden and so very infectious that Blair burst out laughing too. Watching Jim's head be bounced up and down on his stomach with his laughter incited even more chortles from Blair and it took him a bit to settle down enough to ask question. 

"When did you know it was not a real gun?" 

Jim rolled slightly to look up into his face. "Just before I started to talk about the death penalty. Saw the word Mattel on the handgrip." 

"So, couldn't you have given me a clue? I was pretty spooked." 

"Sorry Chief. If he had realized I knew, he might have freaked and done something crazy. Like smacking your head with that gun. That thing was hard enough to do some serious damage." 

"Okay." Blair nodded, understanding. But there was still something else. "What was that bit about the 'little consultant'? Too short to be a cop. Not a real cop?" 

"You know I don't think that. I was just trying to convince him..." Jim paused as if suddenly seeing the trap that had been set and now sprung. He dropped his eyes to stare at the edge of the bed. 

Blair drew Jim's chin around so he could look into his lover's eyes. "You were just trying to get me out of danger by putting yourself into it. Not fuckin' on, my friend. We are full partners now. Don't you do that again. Never again. Got it?" 

Jim's eyes answered that he could not promise such a thing. Not and stay true to who he was: Blair's lover and Blessed Protector. The Sentinel could not lie to his Guide. The Guide accepted that. He let Jim's chin go and drew his beloved's head back down onto his chest. 

"Well, you have to admit that the whole thing was your fault, Jim. You owe me. To make up for what you tried to do." 

Jim pulled back, frowning, eyebrows coming together. "What? How was that my fault?" 

"Let me lay it out for you. Jim gets jealous. Jim eats artery-clogging, heart-attack- inducing stuff. Jim needs to work stuff out of his body. Jim has to go jogging. Jim insists on taking Blair with him. Jim makes Blair wear police t-shirt. Perp sees Blair and t-shirt and voila, Blair is grabbed by yet another crazy. Bing, bang, Jim's fault. I need to be compensated." 

"Wait a minute, Clarence D. Point one: Blair did not have to make Jim jealous. Therefore it is Blair's fault. Point two: Blair did not have to insist on Jim jogging. Blair's fault again. Point three: Blair could have turned the t-shirt inside out so policing motto not visible. Blair's fault once more. Judgement: personal culpability. Three strikes and you're out, Chief. No compensation for you. " 

"That's a mixed metaphor. Ok, so we're both at fault. Compensation to be paid by both parties. So what compensation?" 

Jim pursed his lips as if deep in thought. "Ok, we get up in half an hour, shower, eat and spend the night at the Blues Festival. We come back really late and however you are feeling, you have to blow me." He paused. "Twice. Before we go to sleep." 

"Yah, right, like you would be conscious for the second one." Blair snorted derisively. "For me, you have to get up early...without waking me... arrange for a sumptuous breakfast to be delivered after we spend 30 minutes...no, an hour in the tub with the whirlpool jets shooting warm water over us. With lots of bubbles. And ...and I will lean back between your legs as you wash my back...my chest...my stomach...down, down over my bellybutton, dipping in...your hands curving around my hipbones, holding me down when I try to thrust up...your long, hard fingers delving into my pubic thatch..." 

He could hear Jim's shaky intake of breath. "I..."The big man's voice broke and he coughed slightly before recommencing. "I don't know, Chief. Sounds pretty extreme to me. Might be considered excessive in this jurisdiction, given the crimes involved. They don't have capital punishment in Canada, you know." 

"Gee, I remember reading somewhere that a Canadian Prime Minister said the state had no place in the bedrooms of the nation. Don't really think they will interfere." 

"Sandburg, you are making that up." Jim raised himself off of Blair. "Anyway, time to get up and get ready for the evening. I am not missing Johnny Lee Hooker...even for hours of incredible sex with you. Not when we will be doing that later...as arranged." 

"Man, you have a mean streak. Are you just going to abandon me? I have a major boner here that needs taking care of." He flexed his hips and let loose the puppy dog eyes. 

Jim glanced down at Blair's quite aggressive hard on. "Hmm...well, perhaps you would like to step into my exam room over there," gesturing toward the bathroom, "and I will see if I can do something about that." 

Blair scrambled over Jim and raced into the bathroom before the Sentinel was even off the bed. At the doorway, he turned, hips canted to the left. "Well, come on. I need your hands on me...now! But..." a glare and Jim's eyes widened in response, "...only if you promise you will never eat poutine again!" 

With a laugh, Jim charged. 

Finis 

End Notes:  
1.Ottawa Blues Festival. There really is a very fine blues festival in Ottawa in early July each year. I have moved it a bit to fit with the boys visit. More information on the Festival can be found <http://www.ottawa-festivals.com/frm_festivals.htm> in the section on July. Johnny Lee will indeed be there this July. 

2\. IACP. The International Association of Chiefs of Police. This international police organization does exist and will be meeting in Toronto, not Ottawa, in the fall of 2001. They do indeed hold special topics conferences in between their annual meetings. Membership can include command level police officers (like Simon) and guest speakers/panel members are invited to such sessions. 

3\. French text. The discussion between Blair and the street seller is presented in a sort of phonetic street French. And you should never use the phrase that the seller uses that gets Jim's ire up without knowing it is very crude and lewd. Really. 

3\. Poutine is a 'delicacy' originating from the Bois-Francs area of Quebec, east of Montreal, created and developed in the 1950's. According to research by gourmets of the Bois-Francs area, poutine was created in the kitchen of a restaurant named "LUTIN QUI RIT" located in Warwick,Quebec when customer Jean-Guy Lainesse asked the restaurant's owner Fernand Lachance for a plate of french fries and cheese curds. Lachance, startled by the request, cried: a fait toute une poutine! Or 'that's a poutine!' In this period, the word poutine was often used to describe a strange melange or mixture, derived from an old French word for pudding. (And isn't that more than you wanted to know!!) Poutine may now be found in many places outside Quebec, wherever Quebekers spend a lot of time. In my area, it is available in restaurants and on the street from chipwagons, like the one Jim finds in the Byward Market. Basic Recipe  
? Home-made french fries, hot from the oil. ? Very fresh cheese curds (NOT chunks of cheese!!) ? Gravy, the thick kind. Beef is best. 

Layer fries, few curds, more fries and more curds in a soup bowl. Drizzle/drench with gravy and eat immediately. Go to hospital and have veins cleaned of cholesterol. (This last is Blair's idea. He made me add it. Jim was grinning in the background.) 

4\. Bedrooms and the state. Our former Prime Minister, Pierre Trudeau, did indeed say what Blair reported, way back in the 1967 when Mr. Trudeau was Justice Minister and tabled in Parliament amendments that liberalized Canadian law affecting homosexuals, among others. 

* * *

End

 


End file.
